Low School

Facebook has reconnected me with a lot of old friends from high school. It's been nice to see how everyone is doing, but strange to see so many people who I still remember as teenagers, having babies of their own. I was happy to leave high school and Fort McMurray and anxious to start a new life somewhere else. In hind sight, I was probably too anxious. Sometimes I wish I had stayed more connected, kept friends a little longer and not been so quick to start fresh. I was looking through pictures tonight and so many people I went to school with are still friends and still hang out together. It made me feel a little sad - like maybe I was missing out on the only thing I have left of my teenage years.

It has also made me think a lot about the people we lost along the way. Friends who died or were killed or who made decisions that they never really recovered from. It made me think especially about the handful of people I knew who committed suicide. When we were in high school, everything mattered so much. Who you dated (or didn't), who you hung out with, what you wore, whether you were in band or drama or played sports. It was a lot of pressure and I don't think any of us really dealt all that well with it. I guess some of us were better at hiding it than others.

When I think of the young people who chose to end their life it makes me feel so sad. I felt sad at the time of course, but now, standing on the other side of things, the real sadness of those loses is greater, even if it is numbed by time. If only they could have hung on a little longer, the things that seemed so bad would have become bearable, and eventually, laughable. Now, nearly 15 years later, the cool crowd doesn't exist anymore - we are all just people with partners, and jobs and kids. Nobody cares what you wore, or what bands you listened to or whether you were cool. The cliques merged long ago and the embarrassing moments have been forgotten. The heartbreaking words, "slut", "loser", "fag" have lost some of their power and we are all a little kinder and wiser. They were so close to making it out, out into the real worlds, into their lives full of opportunity and the potential to become what they wanted. The girlfriends they thought were worth dying for would have become nothing more than a school crush and the agony of not belonging might have fueled a life full of compassion and promise.

I wish so badly that I could go back and tell them to keep going. I wish I could go back and tell myself that it wasn't so bad. I think of so many of the people I went to school with and most of them (even the ones often underestimated) have done well for themselves and are off living their lives. I have not forgotten those who are not.

Here Today, Blog Tomorrow...

I miss my blog. I miss the feeling I get when writing a post - like all my thoughts are pouring out onto the computer, leaving me cleansed and at peace. I miss the rush that would come when I hit the publish button. The sense of connection that came with each comment. I have written for many reasons over the years; to share adventures with loved ones far away, to work through muddled thoughts that weren't made clear until they were organized into words, and to entertain. I have written to record time and leave memories for myself and for Paisley and to gain insight from other web dwellers on a particular topic. For years now this blog has been an extension of myself.

Lately, I have not been writing. I have excused myself, rationalized and apologized. I have felt guilty and pressured. Tonight I am sitting here thinking, "Why?" Does my lack of blogging mean something more than I want it to? Does it reflect my quieter, far less dramatic life? Am I unable to appreciate the little humours and gifts that parenthood brings or unable to weave them into stories worth hearing?

I think the truth is that I am happier than I have ever been. Much of my writing over the years has been fueled by guilt or angst - or more often, both. I have felt compelled to write to fill some void, to address a hollowness that never left. When I think of myself not writing I feel ashamed. I know it is who I am and what I am "meant" to do and so when I am silent, I am failing. While this is still true, I feel okay about that now. Not okay about failing but okay about just being. I write every single day for work and I love it. I take pictures and sing songs and spend every waking hour with Paisley, making memories. I am proud of who I am, excited about my growing business, optimistic about life and my future, healthy, inspired and peaceful.

I no longer fear an empty page.

Weak but Detectible...

If this blog showed up in the emergency room doorway, it would most likely be pronounced dead on arrival. No pulse, no life, no activity. I am sad to say that I myself may have even agreed until recently. But now, now I am determined to keep this thing alive. Why? I don’t really know. Maybe as a self-serving outlet for my own ramblings, maybe in an attempt to stay connected with the handful of readers still hanging on. Either way, I’m here.

We’ve got a pulse.